


The Things We Want

by Incogneet0



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Class Differences, Lovely Bofur, M/M, little dwarfling bofur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 07:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incogneet0/pseuds/Incogneet0
Summary: His mother had always taught him that what someone wanted did not always align with what a loved one needed.





	The Things We Want

When he had been a dwarfling he had caught a shiny, green beetle in a jar and excitedly brought it into the kitchen where his mother was preparing the evening meal.

 

“Look, amad! I found him in the grass!”

 

She had knelt down to look, smiled and patted him on the head.

 

“Just make sure you let it go when you're done looking at it.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it'll die if you don't.”

 

“I don't want it to die, but I want to keep it. I can feed it!”

 

“Sometimes the best way to care for something is to let it go.”

 

“I don't _want_ to let it go!”

 

“Bofur, it's not about wanting. It's about caring and doing the right thing. That insect needs to be outside in the grass. That is where it belongs.”

 

Bofur sniffled, the tears threatening to spill. His mother softened and knelt next to him.

 

“Sometimes if we love something we have to give it what it needs, not what we want. And who knows? You might see it again in the grass. It might be the very same bug.”

 

Bofur clung to the jar. After a moment of sullenly looking down at his shoes, he said: “Can I keep it for tonight and let it go in the morning?”

 

“Yes, I think that would be okay.”

 

The beetle did not survive the night.

 

Bofur had wailed loudly and his mother never scolded him, never said “I told you so” or anything of the sort, but he learnt a lesson anyway.

 

* * *

 

Bofur enjoys being around the hobbit. A small, fussy thing that seems to become riled up easily, and oh how _glorious_ it is when the halfling sputters and fusses and becomes flustered and his face turns red. Though he's wonderful to tease, Bofur tones it back a bit when he sees Bilbo become visibly distressed.

 

“I'm only joshing, ye know,” he says. “I don't mean it. I do it to Bombur all the time too and he's me brother.”

 

Bilbo is beginning to calm down from his latest bout of irritated, flustered stammering.

 

“I only tease people because I think they'll get a laugh out of it too. It's no fun if the teasing starts to hurt people I care about.”

 

“That's more than the rest of this lot do.”

 

“They care! It'll just take a while for them to warm t'ya.”

 

Bilbo looks as though he might cry.

 

“Bilbo, I really didn't mean it. Truth be told, you've been a bâheluh ta me on this quest.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

Bofur looks up at him.“It means friend of all friends.”

 

“Like a best friend?”

 

“Aye.”

 

Bofur had very much enjoyed the evenings when he and Bilbo would sit and swap stories and songs. They'd even come up with a tune they'd entitled: “The Man in the Moon stayed up Too Late.” But it was clear Bofur's abrasive humour wasn't always what a tired, grumpy hobbit would find amusing.

 

Bombur elbows Bofur in the side. “Bofur,” he scolds. “We aren't supposed to speak the secret language to people who _aren't_ dwarves.”

 

“We can trust Bilbo,” says Bofur confidently, and turns to Bilbo with a wink. “Ye won't tell anyone, will ye Bilbo?”

 

A soft smile appears on the halfling's face. “I won't,” he says brightly, pleased to have been privy to something that was meant to be kept secret.

 

* * *

 

Bofur clings to the hobbit, dragging him as far from the cliff face and against the wall as he possibly can. His heart is beating wildly in his chest. If Thorin hadn't gotten there in time the hobbit would have fallen. He's glad the rain hides his tears of relief. He and Ori continue to fuss over the burglar while Dwalin pulls up their king, who admonishes Bilbo.

 

Bofur knows the look on Bilbo's face. All the work he'd done to try to get the hobbit to feel accepted was coming undone. He hopes Bilbo doesn't decide to leave them. Yes, he has Bifur and Bombur to keep him company, among a crowd of high born dwarves but neither of them are very talkative, or at least, don't talk as much about things that interest Bofur, like songs and stories. The hobbit likes to talk about comforting things, and Bofur also feels less alone when Bilbo confides his fears in him. For Bofur is sometimes afraid of what they might encounter on this mad adventure too, and it makes him feel safer to know that he isn't the only one that is afraid, and safer still when he can protect Bilbo from things that might hurt him.

 

But he's not been very good at it so far. He'd not been able to reach the hobbit on the cliff face, and he'd not been able to protect him from the king's words.

 

So when he asks where Bilbo thinks he's going when the halfling tries to sneak past him on his watch, deep down he already knows.

 

“Back to Rivendell.”

 

Bofur pleads with him not to leave and Bilbo ends up hitting a tender spot within Bofur when he says they don't belong anywhere.

 

“I am sorry!” Bilbo looks all flustered and embarrassed and this time it isn't amusing.

 

“No, you're right. We don't belong anywhere” whispers Bofur.

 

But Bilbo does. He has his green Shire to go back to, where he'll be safe and happy and healthy. It's what the hobbit _needs_. Bofur pats his friend on the shoulder.

 

“I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do.”

 

* * *

 

 

Thorin is pacing within the walls of Erebor and Bofur feels like he is trapped in a cage with a panther that could lash out at any moment. Or maybe it's more like being around a dragon.

 

The king is hoarding Bilbo. Bofur is as sure that the king is trying to hoard him as he is the huge mountain of gold they are all sitting on. Thorin rarely leaves Bilbo's side, whispers to Bilbo in dark corners. Shoots glares at everyone.

 

The halfling weathers it but he often looks uncomfortable.

 

They are _all_ uncomfortable. Thorin's flaws have been completely magnified until they are distorted, twisted versions of what they once were—simply flaws, as any dwarf would have. Now they are dangerous things and Bofur isn't sure that one of them wouldn't die if they opposed him.

 

He can never get near enough to Bilbo to speak to him. He fears for all of them, but he fears for the little burglar the most.

 

* * *

 

He catches Bilbo trying to escape.

 

“You should be inside, out of the wind,” he says, thinking he doesn't want the burglar to catch a cold. The thought seems incredibly silly given they are on the brink of war, but he can't help but voice it.

 

“No, I'm just...getting some air,” says Bilbo, looking rather nervous. “The place stinks of dragon.”

 

Bofur gives him a knowing look and the corners of his moustache twitch in an involuntary smile.

 

“No one could blame a soul for wishing themselves elsewhere,” says the dwarf.

 

Bilbo does a double take at him and Bofur looks up at the stars. “Must be near midnight! Bombur's got the next watch. It'll take a bit to wake him.”

 

He starts walking down the stairs to the hall.

 

“Bofur!”

 

He turns and looks at Bilbo.

 

“I will see you in the morning,” says the hobbit, who looks as if he's beating back tears.

 

“Goodbye, Bilbo,” Bofur manages to say with the steadiest voice he can muster.

 

He turns away again, giving the burglar his chance to escape, and he realizes in that sharp, clear moment that he has freed something he wanted to keep so very badly.

 

He reaches the room he shares with his brother and nudges him awake. When Bombur leaves to take up his post, Bofur curls up in bed, still covered in armour. There's no point in taking it off. They all might die tomorrow. At least Bilbo would be safe though. At least he will have gotten away. Bofur falls into a restless sleep. He dreams of shiny beetles that melt away into gold coins.

 

* * *

 

On any other morning, Bofur would have been delighted to see the hobbit. Instead he feels terrified as Thorin threatens to throw the halfling onto the rocks below. He's about to rush towards the king when Gandalf's thundering voice saves the day.

 

Bofur quickly bundles up the hobbit as Thorin shoves him to one side. He feels too much at once. Fear, elation that Bilbo is alive, anger that he didn't stay away, and the crushing knowledge that this is going to be the third time he has to say goodbye to the hobbit, for there is no other option.

 

Instead all he manages is “I'm sorry...go.” The words feel inadequate but there all he can manage. He wishes he could nurse his heartache, but war has been declared and there is no time.

 

* * *

 

The fourth time he says goodbye to Bilbo, he feels he has no right to say anything to the halfling. Bilbo has watched three of his friends die on the battlefield. The rest of them were lucky enough to come out physically unscathed. He feels guilty that the hobbit came on this quest in the first place. He feels guilty that Bilbo has been through so much for them. He now owns 1/14th of a share of the treasure in the mountain. He's now one of the richest dwarves in Middle Earth and it feels like none of it was worth it because of what it put Bilbo through. None of it was worth the deaths of a king and his sister sons either. He doesn't even _want_ it.

 

Of course he wants to beg the hobbit not to leave. He wants to hug him, tell him everything that he feels. But he can't. It isn't _right_. It's not what Bilbo needs. He needs to go home to his cozy hobbit hole and garden and lush green fields. And what Bofur wants isn't as important as what Bilbo needs.

 

* * *

 

It is a year later when a letter arrives via raven.

 

Bofur, now a wealthy dwarf, has used a miniscule portion of his fortune to hire a tutor. While he's now not as literate as he'd like to be, he's making good progress. So are Bifur and Bombur. He'd been reluctant to learn to read, but once he realized he was going to be surrounded by upper class dwarves with better education, he made sure he'd taken steps to ensure he and his family weren't out of their depth.

 

So he's still unfamiliar with some of the words on paper, but there are some that leap out at him on the page.

 

_Miss you_

 

_Need_

 

_Lonely_

 

_Bâheluh_

 

Bofur's eyes grow wet as he reads the last word.

 

He rushes off to find Bifur and Bombur. He'll need to tell them why he's leaving.

* * *

 

It's raining, and the daylight has faded, but Bofur can still make out the shape of Bilbo lying next to him in the dark. Having dwarvish eyesight certainly helps, and he is glad of it.

 

He runs a thick finger gently over the slope of the sleeping hobbit's back, revelling in the feel of soft skin. Then he gently touches the hobbit's face, carefully rubbing his thumb over Bilbo's cheek. The calming sound of the rain thudding on the roof of the smial and the soft breathing of the little creature next to him make Bofur feel a thousand times more contented than being in a mountain filled with gold and elite dwarrow.

 

Bilbo shifts in the dim light. “Mmm...Bofur?” he says. “What time is it?”

 

“Not sure,” says the dwarf truthfully. His eyes never leave Bilbo's face, his hand carefully showing Bilbo how much he adores him by roaming over soft curls and the curve of his ear.

 

Bilbo giggles, and even in the dark Bofur can tell his face is red and flustered.

 

“What are you staring at?” Bilbo laughs.

 

“You,” says Bofur.

 

And as the former burglar's lips meet his, he laughs happily into Bilbo's mouth in the knowledge that finally, he has found something he wants that he can keep.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Khuzdul words:
> 
> Amad: Mother
> 
> Bâheluh- friend of friends
> 
> I hope this fic doesn't seem jarring in terms of narrative structure. I always find it difficult to write canon dialogue/scenes because there's always a chance they come off as repetitive and uninteresting, but hopefully I found the right balance. As always, critique is welcome.


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